


Is Your Soul As Empty As Your Eyes?

by is_that_charlie_scene



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Depression, M/M, Nogitsune Effects, OOC I think?, Post-Nogitsune, What else can you expect from me at this stage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3232175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/is_that_charlie_scene/pseuds/is_that_charlie_scene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the nogitsune left Stiles, he was left hollow and lost. He found himself left alone and abandoned. Somehow, he managed to find support in the least likely place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is Your Soul As Empty As Your Eyes?

**Author's Note:**

> This was not supposed to be chaptered. I know I have my other fic to pick up, but my exams start next week and last two weeks. After that I had a week off and I plan to write as much as possible in that time.  
> Hope you enjoy this! Any feedback or criticism is much appreciated and I will fix any errors I can.

When the darkness left Stiles, he was left with a hollow feeling deep within him that nothing could shift.  
It made him off balance, he was like a short fuse ready to fire in the blink of an eye. Because of this he often skipped pack meetings, not wanting to become the burden to the group. The guilt sat heavy in his stomach for those he killed. He didn't know how to deal with the feeling. The hollowness. The guilt. The fear.

Stiles constantly held the fear that maybe, just maybe, it had been him doing the killing. Him hurting his friends. And it terrified him. It was too much for his fragile psyche.

He was fragile.

Some days he couldn’t even go to school, hiding in his bed with cold sweats and shaking hands. Nothing mattered- his dad was worried for him, and often offered to take him out of school altogether but Stiles refused that kind of help. He refused all help. He took his medication, he ate when John did, and he got on with life. For his friends, for his dad.

They said they forgave him, but he could see it in their eyes: the distrust and the fear and the concern. The one thing that made him sick to his stomach, was their pity. At pack meetings, they avoided him like the plague. Of the few he went to, the only one willing to sit near him was Peter.   
Stiles kept to himself, staying near the door on a small couch with a notebook. He didn't take notes during the pack meetings but he wrote out his thoughts. It was easier than letting them sit and fester. He had allowed this to happen a few times and the end result had been a hospital visit and a change in medication. Of course, he'd kept that to himself. He was already a liability to the pack. The weak human, possessed and then discarded. Left broken and ignored.   
Somehow, though, he found comfort in Peter's presence. At least somebody wasn't repulsed by him. He often watched Peter, the way he moved, how he talked, it was like rehearsed performance, an act he forced himself to put on. It seemed fluid and natural to the others, but Stiles saw how Peter hid himself from them. Stiles could understand. Maybe they were similar. Peter had changed in the time since his spell as a rabid Alpha.

On one evening at a pack meeting, the others watching a movie while Stiles was lost in thought. He drew into himself, staring vacantly at the blank page he'd turned to in his notebook. His hands were shaking slightly, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.  
A warm hand wrapped around his wrist slowly, carefully taking the book out of his grip. Whiskey eyes shot up to meet cool blue, Stiles' breath catching slightly in surprise. He closed the notebook over with the pen still on the inside. Carefully, he wrapped the elastic around it. “What?” He asked quietly, frowning. He felt uncomfortable with Peter's unwavering grip around his wrist.

“You need air. Come on.” Peter said softly, rising to his feet, gently tugging on Stiles' wrist.  
Stiles frowned but slowly and reluctantly rose to his feet. He caught Scott watching them with a small frown and set jaw. Stiles' glanced between Scott and Peter for a moment before sighing and deciding to just follow Peter, he was too tired to start an argument. Where was Scott when Stiles needed help? Where was he when Stiles ended up in hospital? Melissa had to take care of him.  
The surprise had been when Peter had showed up in the hospital with a new book for Stiles, and left again. He was still reading the book, having been unable to focus long enough to get through it, but he found it to be a good distraction when he could settle for long enough.

He followed Peter out of the loft and down into the cool night air. He shivered, wrapping his free arm around himself. He felt the cold more than ever in the past few months, feeling it deep in his bones like a constant chill. His wrist was released and a moment later Peter's jacket was around his shoulders. Stiles exhaled slowly, slipping his arms into the sleeves, absorbing the heat. “Thank you,” he whispered, his breath fogging in the air.

“You need it more than I do.” Peter replied simply, watching Stiles. There was silence for a few moments as Stiles took a few breaths to steady himself. “Why do you come to pack night, when you spend the time by yourself?” He asked cautiously.

Stiles shrugged. “The same reason you do.” He replied softly.

“What reason would that be, then?” Peter asked, brows raised.

“To feel like we're part of something, and accepted. But we're not. I don't think we ever will be.”  
Silence fell once more between them. Peter had never thought of it like that, but now Stiles had said it aloud he realized that is was true. Any semblance of the air of sarcasm that hung around Peter was gone.

“Do they know about-”

“No. At least, I don't think so. I don't know if Melissa told Scott or not.” Of course Stiles knew what Peter was talking about. “But he hasn't said anything to me about it. Hasn't spoken to me in weeks. I don't expect him to, either.”

Peter nodded slowly, hands in his pockets. “They haven't mentioned you at all, any time I've been around.” He said softly, watching the boy before him.

“I did't think they would. I'm a liability. I'm not even pack, anymore. I doubt I ever was. What difference does it make if they acknowledge me or not, anymore?”


End file.
